


Irresistible

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Negotiations, Sex Pollen, Sexual Content, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diggle/Oliver sex pollen scenario where they will continue to be in terrible pain unless they have sex. The two struggle with the idea but eventually agree to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> For tropebingo for the Sex Pollen square.

Oliver and Diggle sat on the concrete floor of Verdant’s basement. They were breathing heavily, panting really, both of them carefully staring forward.

The pain was getting worse.

“Why did they do this?” Oliver gritted out.

“Psychological warfare? Or just a warped sense of humor,” Diggle got out. 

Diggle let out a groan of pain then, and Oliver wished he could reach a hand out to touch Diggle’s shoulder, to offer some small solidarity, but the way things were, Oliver was afraid to even look at him, at his body, at his eyes.

He supposed he should be grateful that the gas they inhaled wasn’t toxic, at least not immediately. It wasn’t going to kill them; it was just going to heighten their desire to nearly uncontrollable levels and torture them until they found sexual release with another person.

They sat there in silence for a while, the pain getting worse, the chemical pressing its way through every inch of their bodies, scraping against their nerves like a stone on a knife.

“How are you?” Oliver asked finally.

Diggle let out a breath, halfway to a laugh. “Been better, to be honest.”

Oliver’s jaw tightened. He understood.

“Oliver,” Diggle said, and there was something in his voice, that tone he got when he was about to tell Oliver something he didn’t want to hear. 

“We can’t,” Oliver said to him, shaking his head.

“I don’t like it either. But if we don’t do anything, we’ll just get worse. By dawn, we won’t even be able to move. And we can’t exactly fight like that,” Diggle said, breathing hard from the pain. 

“It’s letting them win,” Oliver said.

“Dying because we’re lying here defenseless would be letting them win,” Diggle said. 

Oliver glanced at him, trying to argue. But Diggle was staring at him, and Oliver’s eye went to Diggle’s arms and eyes and lips and chest, and he could see Diggle’s pain, too, and he wanted desperately to take that pain away.

Oliver looked back at his eyes. “I didn’t...”

“Tell me,” Diggle said. He winced with the pain again.

Oliver swallowed. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Diggle looked at him, and Oliver could see the precise moment when Diggle understood what he was saying.

Diggle reached out to put a hand on Oliver’s knee but then thought better of it. “It's okay. I’ve thought about it too,” Diggle said. “And I was thinking it would involve you treating me to a well-deserved vacation in the Bahamas.”

Oliver closed his eyes and smiled. “The Bahamas, huh?”

“Yeah.” The two men looked at each other, realizing that they were on the same page: they both wished they would have said it before tonight, when it wouldn’t have had the same ramifications.

“Look,” Diggle said, “We don't have to do anything. It's up to you. I can take the pain. There are no reported deaths from this, so it has to wear off at some point, right?”

Oliver frowned. He didn’t have as much trust in ‘reported’ as Diggle did. 

And Diggle being willing to suffer hours or days of torture because Oliver didn’t want to give in… it didn’t exactly make him want Diggle less. 

“Let’s do this,” Oliver said, looking over at him.

“Only if you’re sure,” Diggle said, and Oliver could see the self-control it took for him to say that.

Oliver leaned forward, intending to lean slowly, but somehow Diggle and he ended up rushing toward each other, mouths meeting, hands groping and ripping each other’s clothes off. They kissed, hungrily, heatedly. Oliver shuddered from the sensation; even the foreplay was easing the pain, filling his body with need

“You top,” Oliver said, “I don’t have the control right now.”

“Like I do,” Diggle muttered, as his hands gripped Oliver’s hips, right before he leaned down to suck a bruise onto Oliver’s shoulder. 

“I trust you,” Oliver said, and Diggle stopped, looked back up to Oliver’s eyes. 

Diggle stared for a moment, then nodded. “If we do this, we do this right,” Diggle said then, voice full of resolve, desperation. “Screw what they did to us. We’re going to enjoy the hell out of this, okay?”

Oliver nodded, then leaned back in to kiss him again. Diggle’s fingers worked him as they groped each other, rough kisses as they turned around, pressing each other against the wall. 

“In the bed,” Diggle mumbled finally.

“The bed’s all the way in the next room,” Oliver grunted.

Diggle pulled away. “We do this in the bed,” he said, almost angry in his determination.

Oliver nodded, and felt a strange pull in his chest at how badly Diggle wanted this to be done ‘right.' 

They ran into the next room, and Diggle sat on the bed and faced him. He pulled at Oliver, grabbing him by the waist, but Oliver hesitated. Oliver could see the level of self-control it was taking Diggle to hold back.

“Are you okay?” Diggle said, a bit more frantically than he likely intended.

Oliver hesitated. Then: “You’ll hate me.”

Diggle leaned back, brow furrowed. “You think I’ll hate you for this?”

Oliver swallowed. “That’s why I never said anything. Because….”

“You thought it would end up with me hating you.”

Oliver nodded. _It always does._

Diggle took his hand and wove his fingers between Oliver’s. “Listen to me, Oliver. This is not the drug talking. This is me. Do you understand?”

Oliver nodded, half honestly.

Diggle continued, “I will _never_ hate you because we shared this. Not this time, not the next time we do this. Do you hear me? Hell, if I end up hating you, it’ll be because you’re a stubborn asshole who shuts me out half the time." 

Oliver smiled, tried to laugh. But he couldn't. He just nodded and then he practically fell into Diggle, pressing his tongue into Diggle’s mouth until he struggled for air and had to part. 

“We’ll be okay,” Diggle whispered into his ear as he shifted behind Oliver, “We’re going to be okay,” he repeated, again and again, as he pressed into him. Oliver fixed onto the sound of his voice, closing his eyes, letting the promises blur into muffled sounds as the pain melted out of him, as he felt the relief of pleasure building up inside of him, relentlessly, blissfully. Diggle tried to take it slow, but Oliver didn’t, and Diggle couldn’t resist, and soon they were rushing, straining for the moment when their bodies would be their own again, when they could look at each other with their own lust and not the drug’s. When they would see if they could really keep their promises. 

They came quickly, and then lay, limbs tangled, in the bed until morning. Before he fell asleep, Diggle whispered in his ear one more time. Oliver still didn’t say anything.


End file.
